


New Starts and Nicknames

by AndInThoseMoments



Series: Trust and Teamwork [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Nicknames, Protective Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndInThoseMoments/pseuds/AndInThoseMoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is cleared for basic training, and Clint meets her to discuss SHIELD. </p>
<p>In doing so, he earns himself a new nickname.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Starts and Nicknames

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the ever patient ShadowHaloedAngel.
> 
> A continuation of the Trust and Teamwork series, written for the prompt "different language" - which asked for at least one word in another language. 
> 
> Warnings: A passing reference to potential sexual harassment.

Clint didn't see Natasha again for a couple of weeks after he first brought her back. She was being taken for rounds of psych tests, evaluations, and basic training, and he had a fair number of tests of his own. Throughout it all, Coulson supported him, and more importantly backed his decision.

Clint was unspeakably grateful for that. He hadn't expected it, but he knew it was crucial if Natasha was ever going to be welcomed by SHIELD. He'd made a split second decision that had changed the lives of all three of them, and without Coulson there beside him it would have been too much to cope with. But Coulson supported his claims, and argued that they could work with the Russian.

Every night, when Coulson stumbled in from work, he'd draw Clint close and kiss his forehead. More often than not, the gesture was accompanied by a soft shake of the head and a ruffle of his hair. Today was to be no exception.  
"You are more trouble than you're worth Barton."  
"I know Sir. Always have been." He grinned up at him, and attempted to bat his eyelashes winningly.  
"...Are you feeling alright?" Phil asked, tilting his head. Clint pouted, looking at him as though he was offended.  
"I'm being charming."  
"Of course you are. Anyway..." Phil took a deep breath.

"They've cleared Romanoff for basic training. She's insulted at the idea of having to do it given her existing skills, but she's considering it, so there's at least that." He explained, glancing at Clint. "But she wants to see you..."

"Alright." Clint smiled a little. He'd been sure she was going to make it. She was tough, and if she hadn't made it, they'd have heard by now. "So when can I see her?"  
"You can go and see her tomorrow morning, once you've had your medical check up." Coulson answered.  
"You scheduled that deliberately so you could bribe me into going to medical."  
"Yes. You want me to come with you?"  
"I can manage a friendly meeting on my own." Clint answered, squeezing his hand and glancing around their apartment before leaning up for a kiss. "But you can come to medical. Make sure they don't try and wrap me in padding before I next fall off a building." He grinned, and Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Alright." Coulson pushed past him and headed towards the kitchen. "You go and shower, and I'll make dinner."  
Clint unbuttoned his shirt as he headed towards the door.

The medical check up luckily didn't take too long. He just sat there as they checked his pulse and blood pressure, and muttered with Coulson about his idiotic habit of throwing himself off of buildings. He would have complained, but he was sure that they were right in what they were saying. It wasn't his fault though. Sometimes buildings just desperately needed to be jumped off, and in those cases he was often the guy to do it. It couldn't be helped.   
He kept quiet though. The look Coulson gave him the last time he had tried to make his point had been enough to teach him that. 

He was still thinking it over when he was given the all clear, and instructed as to which room Natasha was in. It was one of the on-site apartments, small, normally used for the more junior agents or those who were about to finish training. He headed up, and knocked on her door.  
"Who is it?" She called back. The Russian accent wasn't in her voice anymore, and she sounded calmer than she had in their last conversation. Clint thought that was probably because she didn't have an arrow through her arm this time.

"It's Clint, you know, the ugly bastard that shot you with an arrow."  
"Oh..." The door opened a fraction and she peeked out. Once she was satisfied he was who he said he was, she opened the door and he was able to step inside. She closed and locked the door behind him, and he grinned nervously.  
"You aren't going to hurt me are you Miss Romanova?"  
"If I was going to, I already would have. And I go by Agent Romanoff now..."

Clint shrugged.  
"Alright."  
"Or you can call me Natasha."  
"Natty? Tasha?"  
"Don't push your luck." She answered, but her lips quirked a little. Clint thought that on anyone else that expression would have been a smile, and he was grateful for it.

"How are you settling in?" He asked, smiling at her brightly. "I really am looking forwards to getting to work with you."  
"People ask why I was saved, about my availability - if I have a boyfriend, the work is too easy and everyone thinks I'm a spy." She answered before looking into his eyes. "It's much better than I thought it was going to be."

"That's... good I guess." Clint muttered, flopping down on her sofa without permission. "Look, I know... I know I've got a whole different situation from you going on. I mean, I wasn't..." He shrugged. "I was just a minor league criminal, and a circus runaway. That was it. But people still... they judged me."

"Because you'd committed crimes?" She asked, sitting down beside him, her body language open, friendly. Clint was pretty sure that she was doing it deliberately to manipulate him into talking, but he didn't mind that. It was what she was used to, just like Clint was used to stealing food.

"Because in the past I'd..." He hesitated, then started the sentence again. "I never finished middle school. Everyone else around here, they're college grads. And I don't... I mean, you need to be smart to do the job. But they all assumed I couldn't be. I realised pretty early I was going to have to work three times harder than anyone else for half the credit. And I did it."

Natasha nodded, her hand resting on his knee.  
"You think it'll be like that for me?"  
"Certain of it. And you’ll manage it. You're amazing..." Clint grinned at her. "I mean, I'm a real fan of your work. You're incredible..." He hesitated. "I had been following your work for a long time, like, before I even came to SHIELD, when I was just a gun for hire, it was so... some of the things you've said you've done, its stunning."

"Glupyy Golub..." She murmured, but there was a gentle fondness to her voice. He glanced up at her, and saw the same look of patient exasperation that he had seen so many times before from Coulson.  
"What did you call me?"  
"Stupid pigeon." She answered, and for a moment it looked like she was actually smirking at him.  
"I'm not a pigeon, I'm a hawk."

"Hawks are remarkable hunters, smooth and flawless. Their prey would never have been able to sneak up on them. You, Clint, you are a pigeon."  
"I am not!"   
"Whatever you say Golub..."

"..." Clint sighed. "That's going to stick, isn't it?"  
"Yes."  
"Alright." Clint answered. He'd been enough arguments to know when he wouldn't win. "You can call me pigeon, on one condition."

She arched an eyebrow.  
"What do you want?"  
"When they ask you if you want to work with Phil and me, if you actually want to work with us, say yes."  
She frowned a little.  
"Only if I want to?"  
Clint nodded.  
"Look. I understand being nervous. It doesn't take a genius to work out that you've had a bad life so far, and what you've done with it..." He hesitated. "Just trust Phil to be different. He's a good guy. Never hurt anyone, and takes better care of his agents than anyone else. Just because you're uncertain about this, and you've got little reason to trust... don't let it slip through your fingers."

"And if I decide that, I get to call you pigeon?"  
"Yes." He answered. "If you decide to do what you want to do, then you can call me whatever you like."

"I'll hold you to that." She told him, smiling up at him. He nodded.  
"I'd expect nothing less."

"I'll see you soon." Clint answered. "I guess I'd better let you get on... But here..." He grabbed a scrap of paper, and wrote down his telephone number and the address of his apartment. "Just in case you need to contact someone."

"I'll see you pigeon. Try and stay out of trouble. If your handler is as good as you say he is, he at least deserves that."  
"You're getting it already. And he's great. Even manages to put up with me, and trust me, that is not easy." Clint answered, waving as he made his way to the door.

He headed back to Phil's, stopping when he felt his phone beep in his pocket. He opened the message he had just received.  
"Come to the range later Golub. I want to see if you're as good as they say you are."  
He smirked, texting back two words.  
"You're on."


End file.
